


Trouble Existing

by Angelwinged_bish



Category: The Perks of Being a Wallflower - All Media Types
Genre: Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwinged_bish/pseuds/Angelwinged_bish
Summary: There are so many aspects of mental illness that have been romanticized when in reality there’s not a thing I could think of worse than letting someone help me. Some think that they can just make us happy and we’ll love them forever and be fixed. Fuck no.





	Trouble Existing

How can one exist in the simple life that is family dinners, caring parents, crosses on the wall, and an ugly small dog that runs around the house. How do some people smile every morning, get their work done, go shopping with their father, get tea with their mother, let people hug them, go to sleep without fighting a battle, get through the day without a way to cope, walk in front of a mirror without holding back tears, or not flinch when someone sets a glass down too hard? I am envious of their lives yet I don’t want the normalcy. Imagining living a 9 to 5 life with someone whom I may grow to hate along with kids who could despise me scares me more than my thoughts sometimes. But what other option is there? Knowing that something must change because this isn’t going to last much longer without knowing what I need to change into makes me think of a mentally ill, scarred caterpillar who doesn’t know what the fuck its future looks like.   
Just watching the people around me move seamlessly through life like they have everything in their grasp and under control pisses me off at the same time that it makes me resent them. They get to just live their lives, from the hugs on their way out the door to the, “I love you” at night. It’s not that I wish them any of the shit-festive that is my life, it's solely that they go through their lives looking down on me as I try to catch up to them. Like i’m sorry Kaelieigh or however the fuck you spell it, but no I didn’t get to class on time. Sorry, last night I was trying not to kill myself and forgot to set my alarm as I fell asleep in my bathtub. I think it’s absolutely great that my friend can argue with her father in a light manner and is perfectly fine with the fact that her body doesn’t look like an Instagram model because she loves herself. I think she is absolutely beautiful and I cherish eating dinner with her parents but a small part of me knows I could never tell her why sometimes I have greasy hair, why I flinch when my History teacher approaches from behind, or why I wear long sleeves in the summer.   
There are so many aspects of mental illness that have been romanticized when in reality there’s not a thing I could think of worse than letting someone help me. Some think that they can just make us happy and we’ll love them forever and be fixed. Fuck no. While spending time with the people I admire gives me a distraction, as soon as I am alone again it's like those 4 hours never happened. They like the idea of taking care of someone but I don’t think they are prepared for me not getting out of bed for over a week, for not eating, for not being able to explain why I can’t stop self-harming, for not being able to handle too much at once, or for not being able to allow myself to be vulnerable. So many little “quirks” that make it that much harder to fake being what everyone wants. Despite living like this for as long as I can remember, I have yet to find a healthy coping mechanism besides typing so here’s my story in the hopes that this either makes you feel like you aren't alone, that this makes you go check on a friend, or that you somehow have advice I’d be willing to listen to.


End file.
